The Emperor's New Clothes
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Ten years of being emperor. He'd ruled twice as long as his father, and it seemed he could never escape Arcturus's shadow. And likewise, he seemed just as incapable of charting his own path.


**The Emperor's New Clothes**

The sun was rising, his head was pounding, and the apartment smelt of sex.

Valerian I, First of His Name, Last of the Line of Mengsk, Emperor of the Terran Dominion, and possessor of more titles than he cared to recall, groaned and rubbed his forehead as the light of Korhal's sun streamed in through the plasteel of the emperor's personal apartment. It had been built by his father as a kind of retreat from the palace (still situated in Augustgrad mind you), and like everything else in the Dominion, he'd inherited it from dear daddy. Outside, he could see the sky traffic of Augustgrad, even though they couldn't see him due to the glass's reflective nature. And even if they could, even if they wanted to kill him like so many did, even piloting one of those air vehicles into the apartment would result in its own destruction and little damage. Certainly not to the pair of occupants within it. If anything, finding out about the second occupant would do more damage to him in the long run than some kind of kamikaze run.

_Here's to you then, _Valerian thought, as he turned over on his side, looking out over the capital of the Dominion – the jewel in the crown named Korhal, an oasis in a world of irradiated wastes. _Here's to the future. _He turned back the other way, to the sleeping figure who shared the bed with him. _Here's to you too, I guess._

You. Too. His brain told him they rhymed. Maybe that meant something? Or maybe he needed some water. She was breathing softly, her figure rising up and down along with the sheets draped over her slender frame. He knew that if this was a normal relationship, he'd do something that would be deemed affectionate, but this?

This wasn't normal. Even for a life such as his, so far removed from "normal" that he might as well be in another galaxy, this still fell outside the bands of "normal." Even the relationship between his parents had been closer to normal than his own condition. Juliana Pasteur may have never been empress, let alone a member of the Sons of Korhal, but in the realm of rebels and emperors keeping paramours and heir apparent far from the public eye, then the life of Arcturus Mengsk could have been called normal in some regards. But this?

_I need a shower._

He got out of the bed and headed for the shower. Proper water thank you very much – the apartment had its own water supply with a recycling efficiency of 96%, and he doubted that the remaining four would bother him anytime soon. So he let the run over his body, trying to remove the scent of sex and sin, and by his estimation, failing both. He didn't turn on the shower's flatscreen, but he did listen to the radio as pundits at UNN discussed the latest developments – the emperor's approval rating (still falling). Incursions from the Kel-Morians and Umojans into Dominion territory (still increasing). Attempts to restart talks with the Daelaam (still stalled). Zerg sightings, Tal'darim sightings, and protests across the Dominion – all still present, all still reminding him that ten years into his reign, it was arguably less secure than it had been when he'd taken the throne. And for God's sake, that had been on the heels of one invasion, and on the cusp of another. In better days, his father had told him that tyrants survived only as long as they had others to portray as tyrants. Valerian didn't consider himself a tyrant, but with the lack of immediate annihilation facing the Dominion, he had to concede that his father might have had had a point. And given that there was a growing movement in classes high and low, re-evaluating the reign of Arcturus Mengsk, maybe he wasn't the only one who thought so. Whatever the flaws of his father, he'd at least kept the wolves at bay.

The thoughts swirled round in Valerian's mind, even as he stepped out of the shower. Even as he took some rapadin for his head, and found that its effects weren't as rapid as the packaging made it out to be. And they were still swirling around his head as he exited the bathroom and walked back into the bedroom, finding that his "paramour" was not only awake now, but quite cognisant of his presence.

"Wow," she said, looking at him. "So, did the emperor forget his clothes, or did you want to test if I'm a fool?"

Quite cognizant that he'd walked into the bedroom completely naked. And now, so was he.

_Oh hell._

He quickly walked back into the bathroom.

"Come on Valerian, it's nothing I haven't seen already."

Had she seen it before, he wondered, as he wrapped the towel round his waist? Certainly not last night, unless she had eyes in the places other than her head. Still, it didn't matter. She'd seen it now, and people like Kate Lockwell didn't forget things like that. So even as he walked back into the bedroom, a towel around his waist, he knew that he was never going to live this down.

"Hmm," Kate said, smirking. "I guess that's an improvement."

"For you? Or me?"

"I'm sorry sweetie, that information's classified."

_Oh, low blow, _Valerian reflected.

It wasn't as if Kate was that modest herself right now. All that existed between him and her were the sheets, and they were providing less modesty than the towel. Her legs were exposed, dangling off the side of the bed, and above, they flowed with her contour, articulating the shape of her stomach, her shoulders, her breasts. Her long black hair, no longer drenched in sweat, hung down over the white, and her brown eyes traced Valerian as he sat down beside her.

"Morning, by the way," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

Valerian grunted.

"Right, so, it is morning, but you don't know if it's good. Fair enough." She got out of the bed, and Valerian tried to avert his eyes as she walked over to her satchel. In one hand, she picked up her clothes, and in the other, a pill that she popped into her mouth. A double whammy that would neutralize any STDs, plus stop any buns baking in the oven. Without sparing him a glance, she headed towards the bathroom.

"You know, that water is meant for me only," Valerian said, finally lowering his eyes now that her back was to him. "I could tell you to just take a sonic shower."

Kate lingered at the door and turned her head round to him. "Oh honey," she said. "After all the water we've shared already?"

That was one term for it, Valerian reflected, as she gave him a wink and closed the door after her. Sharing water. Certainly they'd 'shared water' as their bodies had pressed against each other, their sweat intermingling. And he'd certainly 'shared water' with her at the same time, entering her body through her womanhood. It had entered her, she'd gasp, he'd grunt, and more water would be shared between them until at last, the sheets were covered in it. Until at last, the water had stopped flowing, and been allowed to lie still with their bodies in the night's embrace.

In more ways than one, Valerian knew he was continuing a tradition of sorts. He had no illusion about the women his father had brought to his place over the years. Only difference was, unlike his mother, Arcturus had ensured that there was no chance of an heir being created through these liaisons. So not only had Kate come to this place on and off over the past year, but they'd taken the same precautions. Because while in theory, the line of succession was entirely in his hands, in practice, Valerian knew that if he were to die today, there'd be at least some people in the Dominion looking for a successor. An entire generation had grown up with one emperor or another at the top of the pecking order, and they'd be aware of the traditions of Old Earth.

He listened to the running of the water from beyond the door, thinking about how he'd let this happen. How he'd let it get this far. Certainly he'd always respected Kate Lockwell – if his father had been the proverbial wolf, then she was all too eager to keep stepping on its tail. She'd done it right up to the man's death, and had never stopped even after he'd taken the throne. He'd risen to become emperor she'd risen to become UNN's editor-in-chief. So not only did that mean they were often in the same circles, but it meant that she was there asking questions, or at times, getting others to do it for her. One question led to another, one thing led to another, and somehow, they'd ended up here.

He wasn't stupid. He knew that Kate was playing the long game. But anything she told her would have to be verified, and if word got out that the emperor of the Dominion and the UNN's media queen were sharing a bed and sharing whispers, then life would change for both of them, and at the end of the day, affect her more. So on one hand, outside of such trysts, Kate could keep him honest. Inside however, was the honest truth was that this could never be more. Not unless she wanted to give up everything…or if he did.

_Well, a lot of people seem to want me to do that these days._

The water stopped, and before long, Kate walked out. Now fully clothed, her wet hair draped against the back of her t-shirt. He smiled.

"That looks good on you," she said, as she went to sit down beside him. "You should keep it."

"The towel?"

"No, fecklehead, the smile."

"Oh." The smile faded, but he kept his eyes on her as she sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. And she must have noticed that he was, because she met his gaze, and asked him, "what?"

"Nothing," he murmured, getting to his feet.

"Liar."

He could have said that she was beautiful, but he couldn't imagine a way that would sound anything other than basic. But even so, he was reminded of his mother, of her portrait that still hung on the _Bucephalus_. Juliana Pasteur had been beautiful. Everyone had said it, and had said it after death as well, every time a diplomat was on the bridge of his flagship. People like Kate Lockwell didn't have portraits painted of them – the plain of the human race weren't immortalized in paint. But to him, she was beautiful. One of those occasions where beauty on the inside manifested itself on the outside as well.

"So," Kate asked. "What today then? I've got a free schedule and-"

"I don't," Valerian said. He got to his feet and went over to the wardrobe – a structure that took an entire length of wall, fitted with uniforms befitting an emperor. "In fact, I'm already late."

"Oh." He could hear the tone in her voice, and he winced. This thing was real. It not being real might have made things easier, but it wasn't, and now, he was caught between the women and the wardrobe, with no chance of slipping through and finding a winter wonderland. He glanced back at her, but she just sat there, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, just thinking if you went into the streets of Augustgrad naked. Y'know, like, how long it would take for someone to point out that you had no clothes on."

"Only a few seconds," he said. He looked back at the wardrobe.

Kate sighed and got to his feet. "You do know that wasn't literal right? It's based on-"

"_The Emperor's New Clothes_," Valerian interrupted, still looking at his choice of attire. "Yes, I have read Old Earth classics."

"Not sure if I'd say it's a classic."

"Neither would I. Still, I read it." He decided not to tell her that it was his mother who'd done most of the reading in his youth – originally a way of keeping him entertained, and later, as the Confederacy hunted for them, a way of keeping the fear at bay. "Still, since there isn't some magic cloak that will only appear to the wise, I'm stuck with this."

"Maybe that's the problem."

Valerian looked at her, as she tugged at one of his outfits.

"Black, red, black, red, black, red," she said. She looked at him. "Pretty dour don't you think?"

"You wear black every time on UNN."

"Not every time, but…" Kate took a breath. "Valerian, can I give you some advice, as someone who's been in the press briefings with you for a decade?"

A decade. It hit Valerian that he'd been on the throne twice as long as his father. And what did he have to show for it?

"Perception is everything," Kate said. "So, considering these blacks and reds, and what they represent, maybe get something new?"

"Something new?"

"New order, new emperor, new Dominion." Valerian opened his mouth to speak, but Kate beat him to it. "I know that was what meant to happen ten years ago, and as far as I'm concerned, it did. But the Umojans especially are vying for influence, and they're right in that their system is far more democratic."

"So?"

"So give the people something new."

"New, as in, new clothes."

"Something other than the black, red, and sword? Yes."

Valerian wanted to ask her if she was serious, but he didn't. He could tell that Kate was deadly serious.

"Just think about it," she said, kissing him on the cheek. She headed for the exit.

"Kate…"

"Don't worry, I know the way out. I've snuck in here enough times." She paused in the doorway. "So…until next time."

Next time. He nodded, thinking that would almost certainly be the next press briefing he gave, or if time allowed, a one on one interview on UNN. Not here, in this place, where they could entertain ideas beyond the constraints of reality. Where he could smile, before she disappeared from sight, if not out of mind. Where-

_God, I'm still wearing a towel._

He quickly got dressed – his father had relied on servants for this, but he was quite capable of dressing himself, thank you very much. He had a budget to work with, and with everything from infrastructure to defence demanding it, he could save a few credits here and there. Maybe even enough to get some new clothes.

Because even after he was dressed, as he looked out over Augustgrad, thinking of the threats within and without…he still felt exposed.

He still felt naked.


End file.
